Georges’ St-Pierre and Michael Bisping’s first press conference just happened…

“I think Vegas got the best out of you, unfortunately,” St-Pierre said to Bisping.

“It doesn’t matter because I’m going to get the f*cking best out of you, so shut the f*ck up,” Bisping said.

You’re talking about being a f*cking welterweight. You are a welterweight, okay? I’m a middleweight,” Bisping said to St-Pierre. “I can’t wait to f*cking square up against you. Square up. Stand up and look at the size of me, and look at the size of you. Go back to f*cking, Canada.

GSP fired back…

“That’s all you have on me,” St-Pierre shot back. “That’s all you have. Skill, fighting IQ, athleticism, everything is on my side.”

I’m just gonna let Bisping take it from here…

“Oh, is it really?” Bisping replied. “Height? Reach? Good looks? This f*cking accent? The jab, the punch, the kick? Everything. Listen, Georges, while you were away, because you were so scared of everybody taking steroids, I was man enough to still be fighting those guys. You went away. You went and f*cking chased aliens. I don’t know what you did. No one gives a f*ck where you were and what you did. Coming back, the sport is in a different place. Game over.”

“I think you should shut up. You’re embarrassing yourself right now,” St-Pierre said quickly. “Are you still drunk right now? Are you still drunk or what? What’s going on? What is going on with this? Your voice is kinda, what is happening with you? My God. Are you healthy? Are you okay? Up here, did you get hit too much or what?”

“Hey Georges, I’ll go out on an all-night f*cking bender and still beat you, pal,” Bisping said. “I won’t even train. Look at the state of you, you little f*cking midget.”

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